The Summer He Came Home Part 5

Cain pulled away from the curb. "What street do you live on?"

"Linden...the last house on the right."

"Old Man McCleary's place."

"So I'm told. His daughter collects my rent checks."

"He still alive?"

Why do you care?

"His wife died a few years ago. He's in the retirement home."

"Sorry to hear that. She was a nice lady."

"I wouldn't know."

"How long have-"

"Can we not do this?" Maggie interrupted.

He arched an eyebrow, and she didn't like the grin that claimed his mouth. "This?"

"This thing...whatever it is." She exhaled slowly and winced. She knew she sounded like an ungrateful b.i.t.c.h, but she couldn't help it. At the moment she did feel b.i.t.c.hy. "Look, thanks for the lift home, but seriously, we don't need to do the small-talk thing. It's all right.

"Besides..." She turned away from him, closed her eyes, and rested against the soft headrest. "I don't feel like talking."

Cain navigated his way around the hospital parking lot and back onto the street. He turned up the radio, and she settled into blessed peace, her eyes half-open as she gazed out the window.

It was nearly seven in the evening, and traffic was heavy. Friday nights were always busy, with folks spilling into the small town from the surrounding larger cities, some driving from as far away as Detroit. The town of Crystal Lake supported a flourishing cottage-rental industry, with boating, fishing, and relaxation being key selling points to prospective vacationers.

Maggie was toying with the idea of picking up a few seasonal clients, but it meant she'd have to clean Sat.u.r.day mornings. She was undecided if the time away from Michael was worth the extra cash.

She closed her eyes. Michael and Cain chatted, but their words melted together into a soft whirl of masculine sounds. She couldn't be bothered to listen to their conversation. Her head ached, and d.a.m.n, but she was tired.

"We're here."

Maggie's eyes flew open at Cain's words. She must have dozed off, which was surprising, considering the ride from the hospital to her home didn't take more than ten minutes.

He stood beside the truck with the door open, his eyes intense as he stared down at her. The skies had opened up and rain fell steadily, coating his hair with beads of moisture that glistened against the dark waves.

How long had he been standing there? His T-shirt was wet. It clung to his chest, emphasizing powerful muscles and broad shoulders.

Long enough.

If she took the time, she was sure she'd be able to count each and every ab. His jeans were low-slung, held up by a wide leather belt and intricate buckle that drew her attention.

"See something you like?"

Maggie's cheeks burned as she glanced up at him. "I..." she stammered, embarra.s.sed.

"Hey, I was just teasing." His eyes glittered, their dark depths awash with a dangerous light.

Her mouth was dry. She tried to swallow but choked instead. She'd never felt so out of sorts before.

"I...where's Michael?"

His hand reached for her. "He's inside already. Let me help you."

"No," she answered quickly. "I can manage."

"G.o.d, you're stubborn."

His hand lingered in the air for a few seconds, and then Cain moved aside. She slid from the truck, took a few steps, and stopped. Why was he following her?

Maggie turned and pasted a smile she didn't feel onto her face. "Thanks again for bringing me home. Tell your mother I'll do my best to get the bloodstains out of the carpet. There's a new product that I'm certain-"

"Cain!"

What now?

Maggie glanced toward her small porch. Michael was jumping up and down, a huge grin spread across his face.

"There's tons of eggs."

"Eggs?" She looked at Cain.

"Mom, Cain said he makes the best breakfast for supper you could ever even imagine."

"Breakfast?" Okay, did she sound as confused as she felt?

"I told Michael I'd make him something to eat."

She shook her head-it was still fuzzy-ignored the pain of it, and pursed her lips. No way.

Cain was inches from her now and nodded toward the porch. "He said he was fond of omelets, and I just happen to be the king of eggs."

"No thanks," she whispered. "But, I'll..." She hissed as a jolt of pain ripped through her head. She ma.s.saged her temple and winced.

"You won't, and I will." His hands were at her back, gently nudging her forward, and the tone of his voice told her he wasn't taking no for an answer. "I'm not leaving until I'm positive you're all right. Concussions are nasty, and I know the drill. You need supervision for the next little while, and you'll need to be woken up every few hours tonight."

"You are not staying here tonight." Her belly rolled over at the thought.

They were on the porch now.

Michael had disappeared back inside the house, and she chanced a glance at Cain. Wrong thing to do. Something shifted between them, a subtle change in the air. He was inches from her, and yet the heat from his body slid across her skin like a caress of fire. She felt it. Everywhere. And it scared the c.r.a.p out of her.

She'd stored those kinds of feelings away years ago, and d.a.m.ned if someone like Cain was going to rip them from the box.

"Fine," he said silkily.

Maggie swallowed, surprised he'd given up so easily. "Okay," she answered.

"I'll make supper while you relax, and when I'm satisfied you're all right, I'll go."

She started to protest, but his finger was on her mouth before she had a chance to react. He was much too close. So close that the spicy scent of him hung in the air and fell into her lungs as she inhaled a shaky breath. It was earthy and basic and male...and way too d.a.m.n good.

"I'm not negotiating."

He walked past her, and just like that, Cain Black invaded the one s.p.a.ce she'd managed to call her own for the last year.

Maggie swore under her breath and followed him inside. She closed the door and took a second to calm her nerves. Breathe. She could do this.

Michael a.s.saulted Cain immediately, and the two of them were already in the kitchen. Pots and pans banged and the fridge door slammed shut. Her son babbled excitedly, and Maggie slid onto the sofa, a bittersweet feeling heavy in her throat.

She couldn't lie. It bothered her that Michael seemed so keen on having Cain around. Was he that starved for a male figure in his life? That thought alone made her feel awful, but she pushed it aside. Her head hurt too much to think about that kind of stuff.

Her bungalow was open concept, so she had a clear view of the kitchen area. Michael balanced on a step stool, and still his head barely reached Cain's shoulders. His curls bobbed as he listened to Cain explain his fabulous omelet recipe, and his giggles filled the silence.

"Mom, these are gonna be awesome!" He looked back and grinned before grabbing a bowl off the counter to hand to Cain.

Her heart constricted as she watched her son. He looked so small, so incredibly vulnerable, next to Cain. As always, she was humbled at the miracle that he was. Her little man.

Cain turned around. "Can I get you anything? Something to drink?"

"No," she whispered.

His eyes lingered a little too long, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

Maggie leaned back and closed her eyes.

Cain Black was all kinds of wrong for so many reasons. She didn't know what kind of game he was playing, but she knew she couldn't play along. Not that she was interested, and even if she was, he was way out of her league.

It wouldn't end well.

And Maggie didn't know if she could survive another loss.

Chapter 6.

"Where the h.e.l.l have you been?"

Cain closed the door behind him and stared across the foyer at his mother. The lighting was muted, small beams filtering in from outside through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The evening shadows on her face made her appear almost ethereal. She was dressed in an old pair of denim shorts and a plain white T-shirt, with her long blond hair tied back in a ponytail.

She stepped forward, and as always, his heart softened at the sight of her. The woman was free of makeup and she looked much younger than her fifty-two years. He smiled. How many times had he warned his ba.s.s player, Dax, that his mother was off-limits?

At the moment, however, anger marred her cla.s.sic features into a dark frown. "I've been calling your cell for the last three hours."

s.h.i.t. He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off.

"I realize you're a grown man and not used to answering to anyone, but you could at least let me know where you are and when you'll be home." Lauren's hands were on her hips, and her arched brow still managed to make him uncomfortable. "When you're with Mackenzie and Jake, things tend to go off, and I just..." She shrugged. "I'd like a little warning is all."

"Sorry, I turned my phone off at the hospital-"

"Hospital?" Her anger vanished as she crossed the room. "Are you all right?"

Cain nodded. "I'm fine. Maggie tripped over my c.r.a.p downstairs, and her head met the wrong end of the desk. She's okay."

"What about Michael?"

"They're both good. I took them home."

The look in Lauren's eyes changed. It was subtle, but he could see the wheels turning behind them, spinning until they narrowed thoughtfully. He shifted beneath her direct stare.

"When did this happen?"

He shrugged and walked past her toward the kitchen. "Fourish...maybe?"

"Cain."

Here we go.

"What are you doing?"

A candle burned at the center of the dark granite island. She slipped onto a stool, leaning her elbows on the counter as she continued to study him with her all-knowing eyes.

He crossed to the fridge and opened the door, keeping it propped open with his hip as he perused the contents. He wasn't hungry. h.e.l.l, he'd eaten more than his share at Maggie's, but it was habit to come home to his mother's and head straight for the fridge.

The door closed behind him as he turned, definitely not interested in anything inside. It looked like his mother's health kick and vegan status was still intact.

He met his mother's stare and folded his arms across his chest. "I took her to the hospital because there was no one else, and afterward I helped out a bit."

"Helped out," was her dry response.

His mother c.o.c.ked her head but remained silent as she waited for him to explain himself. A sliver of resentment riffled through him, and he rubbed his scruffy jaw. How the h.e.l.l did she do it? After all this time?

No longer was he a mature man of thirty. h.e.l.l no, he was once more a shadow of his teenaged self-the one who'd never become immune to the eyebrow and the pursed lips.

She's not for you. Her words echoed in his head, and he squared his shoulders.

"I fed Michael and made sure Maggie was okay before I left. She had a nasty head injury, and you can't be too careful with something like that."